The Chase
by consoul
Summary: Gabe's perspective of the chase, and the events on the roof. Warning: Only read this one-shot if you've read Chromaticity, or at least past Chapter 6, or else you'll be very confused. If you haven't, read Chromaticity first before reading this!


**THE CHASE**

(Gabe's POV)

_Last warning! Don't read this one-shot if you haven't read at least up to Chapter 6 of Chromaticity, or else you'll be very confused!_

"It's him."

The tone in Sam's voice had Gabe turning away from the quickly filling street and thoughts of how to get back home to the waiter by his side.

All of his attention was quickly shifted to Sam once he took in the tense lines and stiffened posture of his back. He looked like a rabbit in the line of sight of a predator, his eyes filled with that far off, glazed look he sometimes fell into every so often. The gaze was fixed on someone at the edge of the crowd wearing a dark hoodie that covered his face.

"It's who?" Donna asked, but Sam didn't seem to hear her. It was like he had fallen into some sort of trance, and Gabe began to feel nervous as his shoulder blades began to prickle.

_God, I hate when that happens. What's going on?_

"He's here," Sam muttered as he took a step forward, "There, in the-"

The guy in the hoodie's head suddenly jerked up to face Sam. Gabe felt a shiver trail down his spine for some inexplicable reason. Maybe it was the naturally shifty look to the guy (pulled up hoodies at night tended to do that), but there was something _off_ about him that he (and his strange foreboding instinct) didn't like.

His suspicions were only strengthened when a moment later, the guy took a step back and broke into a run. Only guilty people ran like that, and at a crime scene like this, it just could be their suspect.

_But how did Sam spot him in the crowd?_

Gabe opened his mouth to ask, but Sam was no longer by his side. Just displaced air from his sudden lunge forward and a brief flash of his jacket in his peripheral vision.

"Sam, wait!" he exclaimed instead, gaping as the unassuming waiter leaped over the crime scene tape in a jump that would give a hurdler a run for their money.

Gabe was already halfway over the tape before he even realized what he was doing, but once he was actively aware that he was going to follow too, he put an extra burst of speed on. Sam was already leaping over the hood of the medical examiner's van (how was the kid _capable_ of that?), sending people scrambling to get out of his way. Gabe couldn't blame them; he'd move as quickly as possible to get out of the way too if someone was moving towards him with such speed.

"Dammit!" he said as he slid clumsily over the hood himself, nearly tripping as he landed on the other side. The hoodie guy was already at the end of the street, running across it with little regard for traffic.

Sam didn't seem to care himself either, and Gabe's heart leaped in his throat as the Winchester tore across the street, a car blaring its horn indignantly at him.

"Sam! Wait up! Holy fuck, Jody, get a squad car!"

He could hear the lead detective and her partner behind him stop and turn around, but Gabe kept going despite the fact he was quickly losing sight of Sam.

"Stupid, _stupid_ kid," he muttered under his breath as the streets became emptier and the corners darker. When he caught up with Sam, he was going to give him an earful about chasing potential suspects down like he was some kind of vigilante hero. This wasn't what he'd anticipated when he'd let Sam in on the investigation!

The run-down part of Lawrence they'd been in changed into something more corporate and business-like as they ran, with houses changing to taller and higher buildings. Gabe thought that if they kept going, they'd eventually run into downtown, and that'd be bad if they did. Downtown was bustling even at this hour, and it'd be much easier to lose the suspect there.

_That, and I'm going to lose him for different reasons if this chase goes on any longer._

Gabe was quickly losing steam, and it was beginning to show in his burning muscles and ragged breathing. Adrenaline kept him going though, and the underlying worry for Sam, who was chasing after some unknown who could have anything on him. A knife, or maybe even a gun…

The thought of Sam getting shot added an extra boost to Gabe's stride, and just in the nick of time too. As he burst out onto an empty street, he managed to see a flash of Sam's jacket disappear into the entrance of what looked like an alley further up. A second later and he wouldn't have had any idea which direction he'd gone.

Hissing in frustration, Gabe fished out his phone with one hand as he ran towards the very, _very_ suspect alley. He didn't have his gun on him, and its absence stood out like a sore thumb now as his right hand twitched towards his hip.

"Gabe?"

"I sincerely hope you're in a car right now Donna," he began without preamble as he approached the alley, slowing only slightly to take in the entrance.

It was dark, with oil puddles and various trash bags and crates stacked upon either side to make the passage even more narrow. Towards the end was a chain link fence, and he could just make out Sam's silhouette scrambling over it like it was nothing.

_Note to self: Ask Sam where he gets his steroids, or what kind of extreme gym routine he practices._

"I'm actually in your car right now," Donna responded, "And before you get all uppity, the keys were sitting on the seat, and- "

"I don't care," Gabe interrupted as he ran towards a Dumpster that was close to the fence. Unlike Sam, there was no way he'd get over the fence quickly enough without it, "As long as you get here as fast as you can."

He grunted as he clambered over the Dumpster and over the fence (it was tricky as hell to do it while on the phone), landing on the other side hard enough to make his legs protest the action.

"You must really care about this Sam. You're always so protective of your car," she remarked. Over the phone, he could hear sirens that were echoed somewhere in the far distance behind him.

"I don't want him getting hurt," he said simply as he burst out of the alley. Sam was already entering another one, but their eyes met as the Winchester glanced behind his shoulder. It was a short gaze, but Sam seemed surprised to see him.

_I'm no wimp, Sammo, _Gabe thought, proud of himself for keeping up this far.

"We're close to the corner of Graham and Providence," he said before hanging up and putting his all into the chase.

His renewed determination quickly came to a screeching halt when he realized that the chase had gone in a vertical direction.

They were already a few stories up, swinging themselves fearlessly upward on a rusted fire escape that looked as if it'd barely pass inspection. Gabe gulped at the rickety looking rungs before looking back up, where he could see Sam going further and further up.

_Shit._

Gabe didn't like heights. He wasn't _scared_ (Scared implied that it was a phobia and that it was some serious issue, which it wasn't.) of them; he was perfectly fine on a rooftop or in a high-rise building. As long as his feet were planted on a firm surface, he was fine.

Climbing a ladder, on the other hand…

A betraying wave of nausea made Gabe look away from the ladder for a moment.

_But it's Sam._

The P.I groaned before gritting his teeth and reaching for the first rung.

Sam Winchester was definitely worming his way into his life if he managed to get Gabe to climb a _ladder_ for him. It was a problematic development that he'd have to address later though, because if he didn't focus solely on putting one hand above the other, Gabe was sure he'd have a dizzy spell in mid-air.

By the time he reached the top, Gabe's hands were shaking, and his breath was ragged for a reason completely separate from exertion. He could feel panic mixing with the adrenaline, causing a cold sweat to break out despite the winter wind ripping at his jacket. Getting his feet onto the rooftop helped calm his nerves a bit though, and he took a steadying breath as he looked across the roof.

All calm escaped him when he saw Sam launch himself off the safe, sturdy surface of the roof for the dangerous void of open space.

It was a jump totally devoid of fear; Gabe could somehow tell by the way he'd jumped (and it was the only reason why he hadn't screamed in shock). His jacket flapped away from his frame, and even though he disappeared from sight shortly after with a thud on the shorter, neighboring building, his image was still engraved in his mind.

_If he can do it, so can I._

On any other occasion, Gabe's rational mind would have brought the thought process to a screeching halt. Jumping out into open space was a horrible idea, and Gabe treasured the wildness of life too much to risk his doing something so stupid. Risk with reward and some certainty in a favorable outcome was one thing, but _this_?

However, under the influence of adrenaline and the need to catch up to Sam and the suspect, Gabe gave little thought to the voice telling him to _not jump_ and the lurch of his stomach as he eyed the opposite side of the roof.

_If he can do it, so can I._

The running start seemed to go by in a flash. There was a moment's hesitation at the edge, but Gabe had already gained too much velocity, and by the time the voice telling him to _not fucking jump_ finally overpowered his stubbornness, he was already jumping.

It felt like flying.

There was a great upsurge of feeling as, for one split second, he defied gravity. The wind rushed against his face, and Gabe thought wildly that this wasn't so bad. It even felt _right_ in some crazy way. His shoulders weren't prickling but were tingling with some other sensation, and all he could see was everything ahead of him instead of what was below.

Then gravity kicked in, and Gabe began to fall.

Right before the fear overtook him, Gabe felt almost…_cheated_. As if he'd been robbed of his time in the air.

The thought vanished under the weight of fear though, the feeling almost paralyzing as gravity seized him and dragged him down just _past_ the roof ledge.

An incoherent yelp escaped him as his outstretched hands fumbled for something-_anything_ to slow his fall. There was no feeling of defiance or flying now; just overwhelming _fear_ at his imminent death and the desperate need for survival.

Gabe's hands collided miraculously, but painfully with something solid, and suddenly his fall was stopped violently as his fingers clung to what felt like a window ledge. His arms felt as if they'd almost been dislocated by the action, but he was still in one piece.

His dangling legs reminded him of his precarious position, and as his feet swung through thin air, Gabe felt the fear nearly choke him. It was all fear now.

_I'mgoingtodieI'mgoingtodie-_

"Gabe? Gabe!"

The familiar voice broke through the consuming panic long enough for Gabe to dare a frantic glance up.

Sam was looking over the edge, his eyes dark and wide in the moonlight. At the moment, he looked like a rescuing angel, and the image was only solidified further when the waiter extended an arm downward.

"Shit Gabe, come on!"

Gabe fought the panic telling him to hold onto the ledge with both hands and extended his own arm in return.

"Sam!"

Their fingers barely touched, but Sam only got on his stomach and stretched his arm out to grip his forearm. Gabe clung to him back with an iron grip, unwilling to let him go now that he was holding on.

_Oh God, I was so stupid. I don't want to die!_

"Sammy, what the hell are you doing? Wait, Sam-"

"You gotta let go of the ledge Gabe," Sam said in a voice far too calm for the situation. The wind was blowing his hair all over his face, but Gabe could tell he was being completely serious right now, "I'm going to haul you up, ok?"

Gabe could hear himself begin to hyperventilate at the mere _thought_ of letting go of the ledge, shaking his head furiously. Sam nodded reassuringly to counteract, the hand he had on him never wavering in its grip.

"No, no, you can't. I'm too heavy!" Gabe yelped as he readjusted his own grip on the window ledge. It was probably his panic fueled imagination, but he thought his palms were becoming too sweaty to hold on.

"No, I got you. You have to let go so I can pull you up," Sam said as he shook his head, "You're going to grab my arm and hold on as I pull you up. It'll take 3 seconds."

The idea of Sam hauling him up was too terrifying for Gabe to consider. That would involve letting go of the window ledge, and to his mind, that was the sturdiest thing he had.

"Sam, no, I can't," he said, his voice sounding too high-pitched, "Just let me go, I'll be fine."

Sam stared at him, and even in the dark, Gabe could make out his incredulous expression.

'What are you going to do, fly up?"

_I wish._

"I'll- I'll climb up," Gabe retorted weakly.

He was fine, as long as he held on to the ledge. Letting go of the ledge would be catastrophic, and Gabe didn't want to die, so he clutched onto it even harder and ignored the tiny voice in his head telling him to trust Sam.

_I don't trust anyone, and however handsome and charming Sam is, I don't trust him either._

It wasn't anything personal. However much Gabe liked Sam (he was funny _and_ hot, what wasn't to like?), he didn't have enough trust in him to let go of the ledge, much less the amount of faith needed to literally put his life in his hands. Gabe didn't think he'd ever trusted anyone that much in his life, and he _certainly_ wasn't going to trust someone he'd barely known for a week. He was impulsive, but not with what, or _who_, he placed his trust in.

_But it's _Sam_._

Sam Winchester, kind and considerate. One of the strongest people he'd met, both physically and mentally, and Gabe had met a lot of people in his life. Some had made their impact, and some had faded to dim memories, but Sam was someone exceptional. One out of a thousand; someone that, if given time, he _could_ trust.

"Trust me. Please, _trust me_."

Gabe stared up at the man asking for his trust. There was no time, but Sam was someone _different_, someone that he didn't think he would regret trusting.

_And if I do, I can always leave._

He'd run before, and he'd do it again, but Gabe had a feeling he wasn't going to run this time.

The window ledge was no longer the sturdiest thing he could rely on. Gabe closed his eyes and focused on the warmth emanating from Sam's hand before loosening his grip on the ledge and letting go.

A strangled noise of fright escaped him automatically (it wasn't a squeak; Gabriel Milton did _not_ squeak) as all his body weight was suddenly put into the single hand that Sam had on him. There wasn't as much give as he'd expected, which was a true testament to Sam's strength, as Gabe knew he wasn't exactly a lightweight.

His stomach lurched as Sam hauled him up, one of the Winchester's hands gripped the back of his jacket. Gabe clung to Sam's taut arm, feeling the hard muscles strain beneath his clothing.

_He's a lot stronger than he lets on, _he thought dazedly as his legs skimmed over the edge of the roof, his toes dragging mercifully across the solid surface.

They collapsed in a heap on top of the roof, limbs entangled together as they both tried to catch their breath. Sam's heart was racing beneath his ear, and Gabe tangled a hand in Sam's shirt to reassure himself that he was really _safe_ now and didn't fall to his death.

_I'm still alive!_

"Jesus Christ, Gabe, what the hell were you thinking?" Sam asked, his voice rough with exertion, "Have you ever leaped off a rooftop before?"

Gabe clutched Sam's shirt a little tighter as he struggled to regain his breath.

_No, but it felt right. At least for a moment._

He wasn't sure if he said it out loud or not; if he did, it had been too quiet for Sam to hear, which was good. Gabe was self-aware enough to know that feeling good about jumping off of roofs was usually viewed in a very negative connotation, and not with the funny flying he had in mind.

"You…you made it look so…easy," he said as he peered up at Sam, who stared back at him.

"That's because I-" he started before swallowing and looking away momentarily, "I have longer legs than you, so of course it was easier for me."

Gabe blinked, before suddenly feeling a hot burst of anger flare in his chest.

Who did Sam think he was to just sit there so-so _nonchalantly_ and try to feed him some bullshit excuse like that? Who did he think he _was_?

He rolled off of Sam rudely and scrambled to his feet, his anger growing as he gazed down at him. It only irked him even more that Sam somehow managed to look _good_ after such a strenuous chase.

"Have _you _ever leaped off a fucking building, Sam? Did you think about that before you went and jumped like-like some kind of _moron_?"

"I have, actually," the college student snapped back, rising to his feet in a smooth motion, "On a dare, so it's not like I was completely reckless."

"Still, what the fuck were you thinking, chasing after the suspect?" Gabe asked, throwing his hands into the air. He could feel his temper getting away from him in response to Sam's own irritation. "That was far too dangerous for you!"

"Someone had to catch him!" Sam retorted, crossing his arms tightly as he clenched his jaw. He was obviously trying to restrain himself, but his darkened eyes gave him away, "In fact, I almost did, but then you went and almost fell to your death!"

Gabe stamped down the childish remarked he wanted to make as he gesticulated wildly.

"I told you to leave me!"

"And let you fall? Fuck that!"

He could feel himself growing angry, but it wasn't at Sam. A part of it was, but Gabe was angrier at _himself_ for slowing Sam down, and for being the one to blame in letting the suspect get away. He wasn't sure how he knew the guy was a possible suspect when the only suspicious thing the guy had done was run beside his prickling instinct and Sam's own odd intuition, but he was sure the guy could have possibly been the killer.

Which made it all the harder to swallow that he'd gotten away.

"We could've caught him if you'd left me, but instead you let him get away!" he hissed, feeling his hands clench into fists by his side as he tried (and failed) to put a lid on his temper.

"Me?" Sam snarled, his crossed arms tightening even further, "I decided to save your _life_. It's not like I _let_ him get away on purpose!"

He suddenly took a step closer, broad shoulders blocking out what little of the moon could be seen through the clouds tonight. Everything about him was constrained right now, but Gabe could tell that Sam was just as angry by the flare in his eyes and his rigid face.

"Your life was more important in this situation," he said passionately.

Gabe took a step back in response, faltering for a moment in the face of what seemed to be Sam's genuine belief.

_Your life was more important in this situation._

His life had never been important. From being one of the unlucky foster kids that perpetually drifted from house to house to an adult that perpetually drifted from one crime-riddled city to the next, Gabe had never been told his life was important. He'd never made that type of impact on people; being goofy and a bit of an asshole didn't _earn_ that type of sentiment from people.

_But Sam thinks I'm important._

"You still should've caught him when you had the chance," Gabe muttered, trying to save face as he struggled to reconcile himself with the idea that someone actually felt _he_ was important. He needed to somehow regain control of the situation and steer Sam clear of the fact that his words had affected him more than he'd wanted them to.

However, it seemed his words were the absolute wrong thing to say because Sam practically exploded.

"This isn't even my job!" he exclaimed, uncrossing his arms to throw them in the air, mirroring Gabe's earlier bout of arm swinging.

Gabe thought this was probably the most unchecked emotion he'd seen from Sam yet and was rather startled by how fierce he looked.

"It's _yours_. _You're_ the stupid fucking_ private investigator_ and consultant extraordinaire, so if anyone should've caught him, it's _you_! I'm just some dumbass college student running around Lawrence like a chicken with its head cut off instead of studying for law like I _should_ be because some-some hyperactive stranger I _barely_ know roped me into a psychotic case!"

Sam's breath was heavy by the end of his rant, and Gabe felt significantly drained of his anger as a finger was pointed at him.

"I shouldn't even _be_ here," he said, far more quietly than his previous tirade, "So don't try to twist the situation to something you can control, because you can't."

Gabe thought Sam's sharp, keen gaze didn't cut nearly as much as his words. He knew the waiter was perceptive as hell, more so than any seasoned officer of the law he'd worked with, but he hadn't expected this.

_It almost makes me want to just step forward and…_

He shoved that thought away quickly, along with many other thoughts that were crowding his head now that his anger was fading. While Sam Winchester was capable of passion (Gabe certainly knew that now), he also knew instinctively that trying anything along _those_ lines with him while they were like this wouldn't go over well.

And he wanted to do things _well_ with Sam for some reason. Sam was no quick, dirty romp in the sheets, or some nameless pretty face he could snog at a bar after a few drinks and a rough night of chasing crime. Sam had, over the course of the past few days, had become something like a partner to him, despite the fact that Gabe was notorious for being a one-man team. It was an inexplicable desire he wasn't all too sure he wanted to feel.

But Sam had a point. He was a college student, a waiter, and was _important_ to a multitude of people. He barely had time to spare for himself, much less enough to afford to run around Lawrence with him to ride the crime wave.

Gabe sighed heavily, his shoulders slumping as he toed the roof. He kept his gaze fixed on his feet as he shoved his hands in his pockets.

"You're right. That's not fair for you," he admitted with a grimace, feeling odd for even owning up to fault in a situation. If there was anything anyone could say about Gabriel Milton, it was that he avoided taking responsibility for anything at all like the plague, "I-I don't know, I guess I got caught up in the fact that I..."

He turned away, not sure if he wanted to continue or not. Sirens were approaching, the faint flashing red and blue lights a sign that their time on the roof was growing limited.

"You what?" Sam asked gently, not a single trace of anger in his voice.

Gabe looked up at him (minding less and less the fact he _had_ to look up at Sam), and found that his face reflected his voice. This was the Sam that had originally caught his eye in the Roadhouse, and the one that he'd finally decided to talk to what seemed like forever ago. He was sweaty and messy from the chase, but his curiosity and compassion were genuine as he stood receptively, waiting for him to speak.

_As if I was_ important.

He smiled wryly, shrugging to hide the sudden prickle between his shoulder blades that had come with his thoughts. Throwing aside his lifetime of caution when it came to truly speaking his mind on something like this was hard, but his instinct had never been wrong before.

"I guess I-I just got caught up in the _adventure_ of having a partner to work with, no matter how..._unofficial_ you may be," Gabe started as he looked out to the city before them. Lawrence was laid out before them in a surprisingly impressive view, lit up even in the late hour. "I've never really worked with anyone properly before, not even anyone in the police department really, and... I like working with you?"

Habit dictated that he stopped right now before he exposed himself (and his secret desires) any further. Gabe almost did but dared a glance towards Sam and found that he wasn't disregarding him or appeared disinterested. If anything, he seemed genuinely shocked by his words, and even a little pleased.

Gabe smiled, feeling more confident as he continued on.

"I know it seems strange, and it is. I tend to work better alone actually, and we only met properly _Wednesday_ for fuck's sake. Yet here I am, calling you up at late hours to talk about murder and crime you really shouldn't be involved in."

At this, his face fell a bit.

"It sounds super selfish now that I'm really thinking about it actually, but I _do_ like working with you. You're smart and determined and good at sleuthing, and you're nearly half as annoying as some of the detectives I've had to coordinate with. So...I guess I just got frustrated, cause on one hand the suspect got away, but at the same time I don't want to see you get hurt."

_Because I like you for reasons I've never liked anyone before, and because for some reason you seem to think I'm important. _

Those words went unsaid though because even _he_ wasn't that bold and brash. Gabe lapsed into a not quite uncomfortable silence, letting Sam think.

He wasn't sure what he'd do if Sam got angry again and decided that he'd had enough. Gabe, much to his surprise, was sure it'd hurt if the Winchester decided to walk away. How Sam had managed to work his way into his life enough that it _would_ hurt if he left was a mystery, but Gabe suddenly felt a bit anxious about what Sam would choose. Just because Sam thought he was important didn't necessarily mean he'd continue working with him.

Maybe he was reading too much into Sam's words. They _had_ been said in the heat of the moment (which he was aware was all sorts of ironic), and people said all sorts of things they didn't mean in fits of passion. Many people had said they'd loved him in such moments (usually after sex or while being ridiculously inebriated), but Gabe knew they hadn't meant it.

_So why do I think that Sam Winchester of all people means it?_

"Tuesday."

The single word snapped Gabe out of his thoughts, and he blinked up at confusion at Sam. The Winchester's face was clear and even mischievous as he shrugged casually.

"We met Tuesday night," he clarified, eyes alight, and Gabe felt himself grin as he realized what Sam was saying.

_That's why._

* * *

AUTHOR'S NOTE

At last, I deliver the long awaited and highly requested one-shot of the chase scene from Gabe's POV! This was both easy and hard to write. Easy because much of it was already written, like the dialogue, and because keeping it parallel to the original chapter kept that bit of my writing job simple. Hard because keeping it parallel was _also_ extremely limiting on what I could write Gabe thinking and doing.

In essence, keeping it parallel was a double-edged sword of sorts. Ah, the struggles of writing!

In regard to Reactivity, it's looking more later rather than sooner, unfortunately. Making an art portfolio and hunting for scholarships really weighs a gal down! All I'll say is to keep your eyes peeled during March. Check out my Tumblr ( crossroads-consoul) for any possible updates regarding posting schedule and progress if you're really desperate lmaooo.

That's all I've got to say! I hope you enjoyed this little bit of writing to flesh out the Chromaticity series, and whatever else the future may hold for the series. Review as always, and much love to you guys!


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